


bumpy roads and passing streetlights

by orphan_account



Category: Years & Years (Band)
Genre: M/M, smaller less stressful fic that i write in between writing the bigger one????, yeah. yeah that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>of nightmares and soft blankets and sharing comforting warmth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bumpy roads and passing streetlights

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off a wtm fanfiction that i read a while back. i don't know the name, but i know it had around this same idea.
> 
> enjoy :^)

It is two in the morning, and Emre is wide awake.

Emre checks his phone at what seems to be an hour after he's last looked, but it's just 2:04 and he sighs as he places it down again. He lays in the bus as it jerks after having run over a pothole or something else.

That couldn't have been what woke him up, though. He's been awake for a while now. There is something.

He flinches as he hears a noise. It's soft at first. It sounds like a little whine, like a puppy calling out for its mother or a child who's fallen. He sits half up, propping himself up with his elbows. Without his glasses on, it's hard to make anything out in the muddle of dark shapes. He looks around and sees–inevitably–nothing.

Then it comes again, louder this time, and it sounds like talking. It sounds like someone saying "no". In succession, there's a few of these, followed by soft noises of protest and scuffling. It seems to be coming from Olly's direction. Emre sighs, squinting so the blurs come together to form something–anything. They do.

Emre leaves the comfort of his own bed and stands up, stretching for a moment before he shuffles over to Olly's bed. He stands over it for a moment, watching Olly's dark figure kick around the covers and make small, pained sounds. It makes Emre's chest hurt. He looks over to the front of the bus and watches the streetlights pass as the vehicle rumbles on, and he tries to tune out Olly's voice–because at this point it's full on yells–to no avail.

He sighs, carefully lifting Olly's fluffy blanket as he tries not to wake him, and climbs into his bed. He nearly gets a knee square between the legs but twists out of the way just in time. Emre curls into a fetal position and wraps an arm around Olly. This works most of the time.

Olly stops squirming and seems to go completely still. Emre hears Olly's voice, soft and cautious, but this time it's awake-him and not asleep-him.

"Emre?" he asks, his voice ragged and laced with the remnants of his deep, nightmarish sleep. Olly twists around so he's nose-to-nose with Emre.

Emre simply nods. He feels Olly shaking beneath his arm and pulls him closer. "Go back to sleep," he finally says. "It's late."

Olly nods, a close-mouthed smile crossing his lips as he shuts his eyes. Soon his breathing is soft and rhythmic, and Olly's sleeping form next to him lulls Emre to sleep as well.

He is not awoken again.


End file.
